Adversities
by Storm77
Summary: Tony is kidnapped by a man named Sam. After weeks of him missing, he is found my NCIS. He can't remember a thing from the entire time he was gone, so what were Sam's intentions? (No ships)
1. Chapter 1

**AN- So yeah, here's my new story. I don't own NCIS. I dedicate this story to Claire because she's one of the first people that I shared this story with who knew I actually wrote this.**

Tony's stomach growled audibly, reminding him he had not eaten since morning and it was now past midnight. He knew he would return home to an empty fridge and pantry, meaning he would have to stop at the store. _Great, grocery shopping on a Friday night. This is what I've come to._ He stopped walking as he reached his destination, his car, and fumbled around inside his pockets for the keys. He reached to the bottom of his front and back pockets, and then completing the same process with his coat pockets, but his search was fruitless. He deduced he must have left them in the bullpen and groaned internally in frustration. What a great way to start your first vacation in weeks, right? He turned on his heel and went in the direction of the elevator to leave the car garage.

In no hurry to return to the bullpen, he leisurely strolled over and pressed the up button. The familiar groan of the elevators cables sounded, but spiked no alarm within Tony. Vance had rejected the plan to replace them, despite their old age. The elevator reminded him of Gibbs, in a strange way, because even though they were both quite old, they were too stubborn to slow down. However, this time there must have been a defective relay again, because the elevator was irritatingly slow. After nearly five minutes of him tapping his foot and then promptly his fingers, he resigned to the stairs. Unfortunately, Tony had only ambled halfway to the staircase when abruptly the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. There was a change in the air, which sounded cliche, but was undeniably existent. He was suddenly acutely aware of eyes boring into his back, and immediately knew there had to be more than one person behind him. Considering that the car garage had been empty when he had entered, it was safe to assume that the unknown attackers had been hiding. That also led to the speculation that their intentions were villainous. Tony contemplated what to do for a second, but then decided to continue walking as if he had not observed them. After all, he was outnumbered; that is if his senses had not failed him. Also, he was weaponless due to McGee borrowing his SIG earlier and not returning it. Of course he had his knife, he would never dare to break one of Gibbs' rules, but it was puny compared to what his analyses suggested he was facing.

Most people would assume this as paranoia, but when you had luck like Tony's, there was no such thing. To some what would seem as delusional was simply careful to DiNozzo. Knowing all of this, Tony trusted himself and decided to guide the men over to the video cameras to hopefully alert the guard on duty. He had just stepped into view of the one closest to him when a strong, firm hand clamped down on his shoulder. Tony's muscles tensed instinctively and he fought the urge to recoil, that would be futile, so instead he forced his body to relax which was no small feat. He swiveled to face the man who was holding him captive but flinched in revelation when he saw the opposing face. It was the dead marine who had taken up the last three months of his life, the one and only Samuel Maberry, or better known as Sam. Behind Sam stood three burly men with arms and stomachs that bulged beneath their black t-shirts leaving it obvious they were the muscle of the operation. Tony's hand to hand combat had been improving, but Tony didn't stand a chance against them.

"You're supposed to be dead," he told Sam bluntly and concise.

"Evidently I'm not," Sam told him with a grin that finally made him understand why everyone in the bullpen could get annoyed with his.

"Well, thank you for that captain obvious," he retorted with a lopsided smirk.

"I would watch your mouth if I were you."

"And why would that be?"

"Because I have the upper hand."

"This is coming from the man in view of at least three video cameras with two of those capturing your faces," he steadily exaggerated.

"Liar," Sam said without missing a beat. How Sam knew that was beyond him; the cameras were well hidden to the naked eye; McGee had strategically placed them himself. So, at lost for words, Tony did the first thing that came to mind; he offered a movie reference.

"Lying is a skill like any other, and if you want to maintain a level of excellence you have to practice constantly. That's from Star Trek. Good movie, but I don't love sci fi so much."

"They warned me about this."

"Then 'they' probably warned you that I have a short tempered boss who hasn't had coffee in over two hours that will murder you without blinking," he told Sam in a run-on sentence that reminded him of the manner in which Abby spoke.

"Then it's a good thing we won't be here long enough for Gibbs to notice your absence."

"Huh?" Tony only had enough time to ask his question before a shovel connected with the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground, hitting his head once again on a taillight, and then lying still. Muscled goon number one, the one who had struck Tony, made sure he was out cold before they got work.

"Hold his arm out carefully. If they see bruises they'll run extra tests," Sam instructed.

"But I fought you said it would be undetectable," Goon number two reminisced. He instantly regretted questioning orders from Sam, who was patently extensively experienced. For a few petrifying seconds, fiery rage sparkled behind his brown eyes. But then, just as instantaneously and unexpected as it had come, it left, replaced with a smile.

"We were ordered to go to extreme cautions, if you recall. Now don't pretend you know anything about anything." After that everyone pretended to be deeply engrossed with their task and a silence so heavy it weighed on everyone's shoulders fell over them. They followed the procedure they had spent months preparing accurately and precisely and there time had payed off well. Sam took out the needle, and with muscled goon number one holding out Tony's arm, plunged it into his vein in his forearm. When the contents of the vial was emptied, Tony stirred, but two goons held him to the ground carefully without leaving marks.

"Take out the chloroform and cover his nose and mouth for two minutes." Sam barked and with no one wanting to provoke Sam's wrath, they fulfilled the chore. As DiNozzo slipped into a deeper unconsciousness his body became unmoving on the asphalt. "Lets go." Sam nodded to the car in the back of the garage and goons number one and three scooped up Tony. Goon two jogged ahead to the van and prepared it for the get away.

Once in the van with Sam in the back with Tony, the car quickly gained speed and accelerated out of the lot. They still had three minutes until the video cameras would reset themselves and resume recording, but as Sam said, "They were to go to extreme cautions". The sickly sweet chemical was pressed against the kidnapped agents face periodically, ensuring he would not awake. Goon number one, Thomas, thought it was overkill. It was obvious that he was not capable of rousing, and he aware abuse of chloroform would lead to a depressed respiratory system. He had seen Sam snap at Brantley, or goon number one, when he had questioned orders, so he was tentative to voice his concerns. He struggled to retain his mouth shut, but after the fifth time of reapplying it, enough was enough.

"Sam, anymore and you will kill him," he warned with voice on the edge of yelling. Thomas hadn't exactly expected a warm reaction, but what he got was worst than the imagined. Sam's head snapped up as if he had been stung but then maintained a neutral face. He deliberately reached behind him and brought whatever item was in his hand in front of his body. Thomas only had enough time to hastily identify the object he was looking at as the barrel of a gun when a deafening crack rang out. Brantley, who had befriended Thomas, had a look of horror and shock smeared on his face. The other henchman, Damien, was indifferent, and if anything, annoyed he would have to rid of the body. If they had not been far outside the clutches of NCIS, guards would have been swarming the ca from the noise.

Sam restored the gun in his waistband without an emotion on his face. He felt no remorse; he had made it very clear his orders would be followed diligently. Thomas had not obeyed, thus causing his own demise. But still, without even his own knowledge, deep inside, where he hid all the things about himself that did not please him, he knew Thomas was right. He might have killed the NCIS agent with the overuse of the anesthetic, but he would never consciously acknowledge it.

They made it to the warehouse exceptionally fast due to Sam's intimidation effect on the driver, Brantley. Damien, who was strong was strong enough to lift their captive on his own, scooped up Tony's lax body and carried him inside of the rusty warehouse. He looked like he was about to dump him unceremoniously on the rigid cement, but with a glare from Sam, he instead laid him down on the hard floor. If DiNozzo had been awake, he would have found Damien's face comical that displayed his disgust at his own gentleness.

As soon as they were settled in to the abadoned building, Sam snached up the first aid kit and rifled through the contents. When his hand wrapped around a tube, he pulled it out and brought it closer to himself so he could properly examine it. Finding it was some sort of healing remedy, he applied some to the agent. Of course his actions were not to benefit DiNozzo, they were to help himself to nearly one million dollars. He simply could not have an entry wound from the needle, or what they had injected would be uncovered. With his estimate, in two weeks there would not be a mark on his skin that could be observed without some sort of magnifier. The pitiful knot on the back of his head from the shovel would be slower to heal, but the agent was conscious when that wound was inflicted, therefore leaving no reason to bother hiding it in the first place. Sam planned to keep Tony unconscious until they left NCIS enough clues and crumb-trails for them to be found. But by then, Sam and his henchmen would be far from the grasp of even Gibbs, going into a financially sound early retirement.

Sam's employers, who none had spoken directly to excluding Sam, had included Gibbs on their lists of liabilities Sam had required. Gibbs had been described as a wild card, and overly protective of his team. The employers spoke with a note of hatred in their voice when they spoke of Gibbs, as if they were trying to hide white hot fury and not quite managing it. If Sam had considered this more closely, he would have wondered if agent DiNozzo's fate was revenge on Gibbs. If the notion had occurred to Sam, he would not have cared any more, Sam was only in on this project for the money. Oh, the grand reward had they been promised. Sam had never been one to be considered to have a positive personality, but when he thought of the millions, a sense of giddiness absorbed him.

Sam did not realize he had lost himself in his thoughts until he heard a fearful voice interrupting them. Sam did not need to look up or analyze the voice to comprehend who had spoken. Only Brantley spoke with that much fear.

"What do you want?" Sam snapped with and angry bite in his tone. Brantley flinched involuntarily at his harshness but recovered enough to reply.

"Uh, well, we are almost out of chloroform… I was wondering if I should get more?"

"Fine. Hurry up." Eager to put distance between himself and Sam, Brantley nearly ran out the door, leaving behind a chuckling Damien.

"Coward," Damien muttered under his breath.

"Well, we might as well settle in." Sam announced and exited the room after shrugging off his jacket.

 **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you for the reviews, follows, and favorites! Sorry it took so long to update, life has been crazy. I do not own NCIS.**

 **Three Weeks Later**

Tony slowly opened his eyes but then immediately squeezed them shut again when harsh, white light disturbed his sensitive eyes.

"Tony, you have to open your eyes," a voice belonging to Gibbs informed him kindly from his bedside. Tony attempted to do as he was told, so following considerable effort, blinking, and failed attempts, he found himself looking into the blue eye's of Jethro.

"Where am I?" Tony asked causing his voice to scratch at his throat painfully and he cleared it several times without much relief. His setting was unfamiliar and baffled him. Wasn't it supposed to be the weekend?

"The hospital."

"What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us that, Anthony." This came from Ducky, who entered through an open doorway subsequent to when he spoke. "We found you in a warehouse two days ago with a grade three concussion and a quite painful looking knot on the back of your head, but without any further injuries. We did many scans, and it appears, Anthony, that you were sedated for many days with chloroform. That was rather hard on your lungs, which is why you might notice you currently have a nasal cannula in."

Tony had not noticed that he had a nasal cannula, but he was more focused on analyzing Ducky's face. He had a look of which those who he interrogate often wore, and Tony immediately deduced that Ducky was not telling him everything.

"Just tell me, Ducky." Tony said wearily. He thought he might of noticed Gibbs smile slightly proudly, but he couldn't be sure because that seemed un-Gibbs like.

"Well, Anthony, do you remember how long you were unconscious?" Tony thought about this and based his estimate of how much the light had hurt his eyes when he had awoken.

"Maybe a few days?" Gibbs and Ducky shared a look that Tony found that he did not particularly like.

"You were gone for three weeks." DiNozzo's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the new development in his information. He could not yet comprehend that he had been unconscious for nearly an entire month that he would never get back.

Determined to continue acting like himself he asked, "Aww, Boss, did you miss me?"

"Nope, but there was a lot of paperwork to replace you." Gibbs retorted without missing a beat knowing that Tony playing it casual was his own way of coping.

"You replaced me?" Tony queried while making a face.

"Oh, yeah." At first the SFA was offended, but then his face broke out into a huge smile. Gibbs didn't even try to brag about the replacement's abilities, which meant that Gibbs had not liked the most likely newbie.

"You hated him didn't you?" Tony's question was met with a small lopsided smirk. "I knew it!"

"We have more important things to do, DiNozzo." Gibbs changed the subject easily.

"Ugh, you're no fun."

"Do you remember what happened on Friday?" Tony's attitude sombered and his brow furrowed deeply as he tried to remember what had happened. At first he was met with a blank, but after another seven minutes of deep focus, the memories came flooding in.

"I was leaving around midnight; I was in the parking garage," he paused and then recollected something. "Didn't you see this on the security cameras?"

"They were hacked and disabled. McGee couldn't trace it back to find out who did it."

"Oh. Well I got to my car and I saw that I didn't have my keys. I went back to the elevator, but it wasn't working," Gibbs nodded and he continued. "So I went to the stairs. I was walking over there when I felt this weird sense like I was being watched. I just sort of knew there was more than one person and I didn't have my gun. Sorry, boss." Gibbs glared, but remained silent. "I walked into view of a camera, but then I felt someone put their hand on my shoulder. I turned around… I can't remember anything else. I'm sorry."

"Rule six, DiNozzo."

"Right, boss."

"You are certain you cannot remember how the head wound was inflicted?" Ducky commented after a long time of being quite.

"No, that's all I can remember," Tony spoke clearly sounding dejected.

"Well do not worry, short term memory loss is common in those with head injuries. We think it could have been a shovel, or some other piece of metal, that was applied with immense force to the back of your head. You know this reminds me of a case long ago..." Tony rubbed the back of his neck while pondering the new information. Unfortunately, though, it did not spark any new memories like he had hoped.

Ducky accidentally misinterpreted Tony's deep thinking for exhaustion and made a move for the door. "My boy, you should get some sleep," the doctor suggested quietly. Ducky was rightfully surprised when Tony didn't even fully react, much less protest. In fact, his only sign of recognition was a slow nod while he continued to stare at a nonexistent dot on the wall. Ducky did not comment on the lack of complaint, instead holding open the door for Jethro, and then quietly closed it behind them. Now alone, Mallard and Jethro immediately turned towards each other prepared to converse.

"Are you worried about him, Jethro?" Ducky asked while the profiler in him closely examined the opposite face on instinct.

"No," he replied too quickly to be completely true. "I just don't know how he could come unscathed after three weeks of being gone. I mean, you've seen his luck."

"I share your thoughts. What is your gut telling you?"

"That this is sure as heck not over," Gibbs said rather dramatically before leaving the hallway. Ducky remained standing there feeling rather stupid and as if he had been left in the dust of Leroy Jethro. He had seen the look on Gibbs before, and its result could be extremely dangerous.

Duck decided to speak to the team and give them an update on Tony's condition. He was certain they were all worried, despite his attempts to reassure them. When Ducky had called them to inform the of Tony's discovery, they had all rushed to the hospital. Currently only Ziva and McGee remained seeing as how Ducky had urged the rest of them to leave. Tony had not awoken immediately so he had not see a reason to keep them there, waiting on an unconscious agent. However, while knowing this, Ducky also knew not to even bother to ask either one of Tony's teammates to leave. While it was against his better judgment for them to sleep in those uncomfortable chairs, he know any recommendations of vacating would be futile. Even other doctors had done everything short from dragging them out of the building but they had not budged. Ducky sighed at their persistence and turned down the last hallway until he reached the waiting room. He took a minute to collect himself and take deep breaths before he entered the line of sight of any occupants of the following room. He was instantly bombarded with questions that were placed too quickly for him to even have a remote chance of answering.

"Is he okay?"

"Can we see him?"

"Is he hurt?"

"Where's Gibbs?"

"Please, slow down. I cannot possibly answer all of these questions!" Ducky cried over their voices. They all shut up and Ducky regained the brain power to notice that Abby had joined them in the stiff plastic chairs. While he was upset that she had not gotten some much needed rest, Ducky was not surprised. He had not thought that she could leave Tony alone in the first place. "Well, Tony has a grade three concussion, but is otherwise unharmed. He can't remember what caused the head wound, and he was most likely kept unconscious the entire time he was held captive. Do you have any questions?" Abby quickly shot her up and waved it wildly in the air. Ducky shook his head with dry humor; he should have known that of course she would be the one to have a question. "Yes, Abigail?"

"Can we see him now?" she asked with a desperate pleading in her wide eyes. Knowing that an emotional Abby was a difficult Abby, he smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, my dear, but he is currently asleep. Keep in my mind that he has not been awake for three weeks, making it tiring for him to do so now."

"When can we see him?" Abby pressed persistently.

"We are still unsure. There was quite a bit of drugs in his system that still need to be flushed out before he can remain awake long enough to have visitors." Ducky felt slightly bad as he knew he was pushing the truth, but he also knew Tony couldn't handle visitors yet though he would never admit it. Doctor Mallard wanted Tony to receive copious amounts of rest while Ducky wanted to surround him with friends, which created a terrible inner debate. Eventually the doctor that he had spent more time being overruled which allowed him to hold firm to his previous decision. McGee interrupted his thoughts when he asked,"Will there be any lasting effects from the drugs?"

"As far as we can tell, no." Ducky informed him steadily.

"Is 'we' you and the other doctors?" Ziva queried curiously.

"Yes."

"When can he leave?" Abby asked who looked like she was on the brink of tears.

"Not very soon, I'm afraid," Ducky began very gently. "He will need to be in the hospital for an uncertain but rather long time before he can be released into someone else's care. There is many precautions that must be followed to be sure that there is no lasting side effects. It is very hard to be sedated for that long, especially if some of the time chloroform was used."

"Chloroform was used?" Abby gasped with disbelief. At this point she had given up any pretense of not crying and was red-eyed with dripping mascara making her look like a raccoon.

"Only at first. Then they switched to a more safe unnamed drug. Still, I must warn you, it affected his breathing and his has a nasal cannula." His words were met with a heavy silence and he concluded they must have finally ran out of questions. Realizing he was no longer needed, he quietly excused himself to find Jethro. He craved to know what was not over and why. He did not question Gibbs foretelling though; his own gut agreed. Tony had only been the start.

 **PLEASE REVIEW! THEY MAKE ME SMILE!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! You guys are really amazing. Just for the record, I do not own NCIS. I pretty sure you all knew that anyway. Why would I be writing FANfiction if I wasn't just a FAN? Like no, I own NCIS, but instead of making this an episode, I would rather make a fanfic…? I'm dragging on, so anyway… here you go!**

 **A Warehouse At An Unknown Place**

Sam sat in a hard wooden seat glaring daggers at the flip phone in his hand. He was frustrated and wasn't sure of how to deal with it properly yet. He made a rapid and possibly irrational decision resulting in him punching in a number with further force than necessary.

"Hello?" a gravelly voice asked impatiently from the other end.

"I deserve more money," Sam spoke to the point and with misplaced confidence in himself.

"Why would that be?" the voice asked unfazed by the bluntness.

"I got offered five jobs that I had to turn down while I was babysitting Agent DiNozzo. The money added together from them would have surpassed the amount you payed me."

"Well, we are already on our way to the meeting. I will bring more money than expected with me," the voice pronounced carefully and calmly. Sam was extremely taken back; he had expected to have to put up a stronger argument, but with considerable effort he managed to conceal it. He was suspicious too, but the thought of increasing money was higher on the priority list. His usually logical and precise personality was forgotten at the sight of a penny.

"Good. I will see you in ten minutes," Sam responded with the smile on his face possible to hear in his voice.

"Goodbye," was the last word before the connection was cut.

Sam continued to stare at the phone for a second before he snapped it in half. He was as paranoid as ever, and he did not want to leave any evidence behind when he left the warehouse. He was in decision to see if he would leave a note taunting NCIS when he left, so he wanted to be prepared in case he did.

Within the next twenty minutes, the three men who were paying him arrived in a black van. The driver opened the door and threw out a bulky, black bag of money. It hit the ground and slid forward a few more feet but still landed at least two yards away from Sam. Sam closed the distance between himself and the bag cautiously and tentatively, not wanting to look desperate in case he had the chance of getting an offer from them again. He reached it and before opening it glanced up to look at the driver. He was tall, maybe 6'4, and wearing a ski mask with a voice manipulator. Sam filed that away in his mind for possible use later, but otherwise gave no attention to it. He opened the zipper expecting to see loads of green cash, but was faced with several newspapers instead.

"Hey!" he shouted with his wrath bubbling causing his face to turn to a blood red. He pulled the gun from its place on his waistband, but before it could fully become in front of his body and aimed at its target, a shot rang out. Sam's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly as he watched his shirt fill with crimson from the bullet an inch from his heart. He fell backwards while watching the driver slide the freshly shot gun into the glove compartment. Sam glared at the driver, but before he could do anything else, his eyes slid closed.

The driver smiled dully at how pathetically easy that had been. He would have thought that Sam wouldn't have been so careless and trusting. In fact, he was beginning to ponder if he should steal DiNozzo's medical records to insure that Sam hadn't made a mistake. But nevermind that, now he was able to proceed for his glorious plans for NCIS.

 **NCIS Headquarters**

"Ziva, McGee! We have a dead body," Gibbs called loudly. From years of practice, they both shot up from their chairs and scrambled for their bags. On her way to racing to the elevator Ziva paused slightly as she looked at the empty desk. A ghost of a frown tugged on her lips as she worked hard to retain a face void of emotion and eyes without tears. She wished that Tony would come back to work and fill the ever so annoying silence that hung in the air around the three manned team. Ducky kept reminding them that it was best Anthony was resting, but it had been long, terrible week and he was still not back. He had already been missing for three weeks, and Ziva did not want another day of it.

Gibbs noticed the slight delay and left his spot in the elevator. He gently took her wrist and guided her towards the closing doors that McGee was holding open. Once inside McGee asked what everyone was wondering. "When will he be back?"

"I'm picking him up from the hospital today. He'll stay with me for a few days and then probably be ready," Gibbs explained.

"I miss him," Ziva whispered softly and sadly.

"Me too," McGee agreed.

"Well, unless you want to hear him forever nag, don't tell him that." Gibbs joked. He was honestly trying to be kind to his agents as out of character as that was for Gibbs. He understood how they were feeling and decided he should try to make this a little bit easier for them. He was sure as heck not going _easy_ on them, but he thought not having to deal with a cranky boss would be one less thing to worry about.

"Yes. He would get a big brain," Ziva commented.

"Head, Ziva. He would get a big head," McGee corrected. He didn't think much of it until they were all painfully aware of how Tony would have said something very similar normally instead of McGee. It seemed to McGee that everything that happened in their small team always somehow managed to remind them of Tony. Last week a suspect almost got away because DiNozzo wasn't there to run him down. Two weeks ago no one thought to look at the traffic cameras because Tony usually did and a murderer almost went free. Three weeks ago they spent double the amount of time than necessary on a case because they simply didn't have DiNozzo's expertise to contribute to the case.

"I think that brain much more sense. The brain is what controls your emotions and that included arrogance," Ziva informed everyone while interrupting McGee's musings.

"Well tell that to the person who created the idiom, not me." McGee snapped. As soon as he spoke the words, he regretted his tone. He wasn't certain what came over him; he almost never lost his temper, especially with friends. He supposed he was frustrated because he felt that the bad things always happened to Tony. Tony retained the worst luck in the world, and gosh, it was just so _unfair_. "I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's all right, McGee. We are all dealing with this differently," Ziva interrupted giving him a smile to let him know she was truly not offended. At that moment the elevator doors dinged open, effectively cutting off their conversation. McGee started up the van, which yet again reminded them of Tony's absence. They got inside without anymore conversing which prompted McGee to quietly play some classical music that he just knew Tony would hate.

The ride to the crime scene wasn't very long, only around forty-five minutes. When the team came to a halt they realized that the crime scene was rather cliche. They were at an warehouse that was stereotypically abandoned and barren that reminded even Ziva of a movie set. The nearest neighboring building was probably a half hour away, but still there was a high fence surrounding the property. As if that wasn't unreasonable enough, barbed wire also was hung at the top of the fence that would make climbing the fence nearly impossible.

There was already yellow tape hanging in a rectangular shape around the body that was face first on the ground. Ziva wondered why the man seemed almost familiar; she did not know any current marines. She dismissed her speculations as paranoia seeing as how the probability of her knowing someone who hid the fact they were a marine seemed strange, even in her own mind. She turned her attention to the body and did a brief analyses of what was in front of her. It was obvious that the body hadn't been moved because un-smeared blood was pooled beneath the marine's forehead. His clothes, though tattered, were normal and he did not appear to have any form of identification on him.

"Ziva, take photos. McGee, you bag and tag." They gave their own versions of an affirmative 'yes' before hurrying to complete their tasks.

Gibbs went over to Ducky who waiting of to the side for the photos to be taken before he could move the body. Jimmy was pulling supplies out of their trunk, and Gibbs decided to help as he was presently without a job to complete. Palmer sent him a questioning look as this was very unlike him, but didn't dare to say anything to him. By the time all of the equipment was out and set on the ground, the photos were done.

"Can we roll him over, Duck?" Gibbs asked, anxious to get an ID on the victim.

"If you give me some help, Jethro." Together they were able to roll the body over onto his back and Gibbs gasped as soon as he saw the face. Well, he didn't really gasp, because Gibbs never really gasps, but his breath hitched. "What is it Jethro?" Ducky asked with his voice filled with concern for his friend.

"McGee, come here and scan the fingerprint," the lead investigator called while ignoring Ducky's question. McGee did as he was told, fumbling to put away the camera and then producing a scanner from his pocket. To his credit, he managed to scan the fingerprint even after he saw the face of the dead man provoking his eyebrows to shoot up.

"It's Sam, boss." McGee confirmed the suspicions. Gibbs swore loudly which triggered Ziva to look over. When her brow furrowed in confusion, McGee explained the situation. As soon as he mentioned the case from four weeks ago, her face lit up with understanding. But then, once again, lines of mystification returned.

"The two bodies cannot both be Sam, yes?"

"I don't know, but this is really Sam." McGee responded while staring at the body like it was an enigma.

"So if this is Sam… Who is the other body?" Ziva asked but no one could answer.

 _ **PLEASE REVIEW! They really make me want to keep going. Also I'm not quite sure what I want to do with what was injected yet so review what you think it could be. PLEASE!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own NCIS because when life gave me lemons I threw them at people.**

 **Antonella- I read your review (it said don't beg for reviews, it makes them angry) and I was like who's 'them'. Suddenly I had this perfect image of a bunch of people with pitchforks going "WE WON'T REVIEW!" and I cracked myself up. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.**

After nearly an hour of complaining, Tony had managed to convince Gibbs that he felt ready to go back to work. He hated just sleeping all the time and waiting for all the drugs to be flushed out of his system. Admittedly, now that he was on the elevator to work, he was unfortunately exhausted. His eyelids were extremely heavy, as if they were weights and the urge to sleep was tempting. However, in an stubborn effort to not be sent home, Tony hid his emotions deep beneath the surface. He had been undercover many times and was exceptional at it, allowing him to maintain an unafflicted face.

However, when the elevator reached the bullpen, suddenly Tony regretted coming back to work so early. When he had come back from having the plague all he had to do was paste a huge smile on his face and make a dramatic entrance. But now, he did not feel like himself, and while he could hide his sleepiness, acting himself might just push him over the edge. He did not want their predicted worry or pity when they found him quite and without jokes.

 _Well, too late now,_ Tony thought as the door opened revealing the busy bullpen. He managed a small smile before making his way over to his desk. Auspiciously, he was saved, at least at the moment, when he found the desks empty suggesting they had caught a case. He felt childishly left out though, even despite the fact he was confined to desk work, that he had not been called.

Finding himself without much to do, he picked up a file from Ziva's desk. Leaning against the desk, he flipped through it absentmindedly when suddenly a picture caught his eye. It was obvious Ziva had taken it because in the corner a finger blocked the lens, but that was not what interested Tony. What interested Tony was that there Sam lay dead with eyes staring up into emptiness. _Wait, why is that interesting?_ He knew Sam had died… But still something tugged at his memory. It was like when you're dreaming and a noise filters through from the outside, except it was like a faded memory coming into your life. His brow furrowed and he paced back and forth, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, a light bulb clicked on deep within his subconscious, and the memories broke threw the block so abruptly that Tony sat plopped down in his chair. He held his head with one hand while leaning on his elbow, and thought through what he thought happened multiple times to make sure he truly had everything straight. First, he came to the conclusion that Sam had been strangled, yet there Sam laid definitely not strangled and most definitely shot. Second, he connected the pieces that Sam had been the one who had knocked him out. He made a frantic snatch for the phone and dialed speed dial number one. One ring… silence. Two rings… silence. Three rings… _come on Gibbs!_

Finally, just before Tony's resolve dissolved, Gibbs answered. "Gibbs."

"Okay, you know when I said I didn't know who knocked me out?" Tony asked.

"Spit it out, DiNozzo."

"It was Sam and a couple muscley dudes."

"Are you sure?"

"Gee, Gibbs, now that you mention it, it could have been Ducky and a couple young ladies." Tony sarcastically replied. He smirked when he could perfectly picture Gibbs' eye roll, but then quickly wiped it off his face when the next vision was Gibbs head slapping him.

"We're coming back." Gibbs said after a pause. Tony opened his mouth to continue speaking when the other line disconnected signalling Gibbs had hung up. He closed his mouth again and it morphed into a frown. Gibbs' second b could really stand out sometimes.

Tony set the phone back in its cradle and returned to pacing. Now that he had figured out his memory mystery, his energy was renewed to the point where he felt as if he had drunk several cups of coffee. His mind worked furiously, trying to connect the dots of Sam and his kidnapping. He produced a few theories, but quickly discarded them, due to the insanity of them. He sighed and rubbed his temples, even though that did nothing to help his forming headache. When completely honest, he would admit he was quickly wearying of not understanding.

He had probably been moving for ten minutes without pause when the elevator door opened. Expecting the team to walk in, Tony made a quick attempt to make himself not look like a squirrel on caffeine. His attempts would have been futile, so it was beneficial that good luck was once again on his side. Instead of his team, a hyper, black-haired scientist came bursting in. She threw her arms around him and squeezed as tight as she could while burying her head in his shoulder. Tony tried attempted to rub her back as a reassuring gesture, but he couldn't really see past the two pig tails that covered his vision.

Tony made an indignant sound of pain when the grip around his midsection managed to constrict further, which resulted in his release. He simultaneously did his best to slow down his breathing so he did not gasp for air, while giving Abby one of his best smiles. If there was anyone he did not want to worry about him, it was Abby. She was like his little sister, but she did get a little frantic when she was worried.

Without warning Abby slapped his bicep, and with her strength, it hurt more than the blow most of the criminals he had arrested could give.

"Ow! What was that for?" Tony cried while rubbing his arm.

"For making me worry about you! Do you know that we had to send a description to you to every local morgue within thirty miles? There was seven matches! The director thought you were dead!"

"Sorry, Abby. I didn't really ask to be kidnapped though."

"I know," Abby declared while embracing him once again. "I just _knew_ you weren't dead, but he wouldn't believe me!" She sounded nearly hysterical and Tony hugged her back tightly.

"I couldn't die, you know that. Gibbs didn't give me permission," Tony attempted to make her feel better. "Hey, look behind you."

"Huh?" she asked but complied anyway without receiving an explanation. When she saw the Caf!Pow sitting on the edge of the desk she grinned. "I'm glad you're not dead," Abby informed him while taking a long sip.

"Me too, Abby. I haven't put my movie collection in my will, and I would hate for them to fall into the wrong hands."

"That right, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, causing Tony to jump. He walked out of the elevator, which he had not heard arrive, with the rest of his team. He looked worn down and had most likely been wearing the same outfit for several days judging by his disheveled wardrobe. In an attempt to make a good impression on Gibbs in order to make the day more bearable, he had bought a cup of coffee for him. The steaming hot and bitter liquid was now sitting on Gibbs' desk, and when Gibbs saw it, Tony could have sworn the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly. Before Tony could mention it though, Gibbs spoke.

"Sam knocked you out," he said and it was impossible to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Well, not really Sam. One of the burly dudes did it, but Sam was the one who put his hand on my shoulder."

"Did you get any information?" Gibbs asked hopefully.

"Not really. He knew where the video cameras were. He knew you were my boss and your name."

"You were really unconscious for three weeks?" Tony figured he meant that he hadn't remembered anything else from the time he was taken.

"Yeah, I was really out cold. You know, this reminds me of the movie The Invisible-" Tony would have happily continued with a detailed description and imitations, except he was cut of with groans from his teammates. He opened his mouth to explain why it was an apt comparison, but before words could come out, the room started spinning. He clutched the side of his desk, doing his best to not appear ailing, and waited for it to subside. His stomach turned nauseously, forcing Tony to either throw up or swallow down bile. With too much dignity to vomit in front of his entire team, he obviously chose the latter. It receded to a bearable level without warning, just as it had come. He took a deep breath while wondering what come have made his feel so unwell.

Gibbs watched Tony while something strange happened to him. With Tony's knack of hiding what he was feeling, no one noticed how uncomfortable he was. However, after close examination, you could see he was not casually holding onto his desk as he was trying to deceive. His knuckles were white from his death grip on the table top, as if he would fall if he let go. Almost nonexistent lines formed at the the corners of his eyes and mouth as he rode out whatever had hit him.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs called out. There was a worrying pause before Tony responded without a hint of discomfort.

"Yes, boss?"

"Go home."

"Boss,-"

"I wasn't asking, DiNozzo." Tony shot a glare that would have made any less of a man flinch. He hated being sent home, and being _ordered_ home infuriated him. His eyes narrowed while his eyebrows lowered and drew close together. His jaw clenched, and everyone paused their work to see if Tony would dare to disrespect a direct order. Finally, after what could be described as a stand-off, Tony snatched his jacket without loosing the rage in his eyes. He slammed the chair into its place beneath the desk, and took the stairs out of the building opposed to the expected elevator.

When no one returned to what they were doing, Gibbs snapped. "Get back to work," he ordered loudly.

.o0O0o.

Tony drove recklessly and far past the speed limit, letting his anger control him. Unfortunately, he had to stop at Gibbs's house to pick up his belongings that he had been keeping there. He wasn't sure if he could handle even going to work with Gibbs tomorrow, much less stay with him. Overall, he needed to be alone with some privacy without the constant pressure to appear as if he was fine. He arrived at the house and was glad to see all of the lights were off. Tony knew that recently, though not while he had been there, Jackson had been staying over. Being alone was the best healing property he could think of.

He walked up to the red door and went to grab the key from his jeans, but after checking each pocket, he concluded he left it at work. He smiled wrily as he thought of how every time he left his keys at work he always ended it up feeling like crap. He extracted his lock pick from the inside of his jacket and pushed the thin piece of metal into the lock. In case of the prying eyes of neighbors, he put his body very close to the door to hide his tools. Within two minutes, all of the pins had been pushed up, and Tony swung the door open. He flicked on the light and went to go to the upstairs spare bedroom to get his bag. However, when Tony had made it to the the third step, a terrible wave of whatever had hit him earlier seized him. His knees buckled inducing him to land painfully kneeling on the next step. His head felt like it was filled of cotton which would not allow any form of logical thought. Tony tried to sit down properly, but the attempt failed and he went falling backwards. He couldn't break his fall so the back of his head connected with the wooden floor with considerable force. The impact mixed with the overwhelming sense of nausea was enough to knock him out; mercifully saving him from his ailing self.

 **Reviews make my day!**


End file.
